“Was it?” He plays dumb. “Must be smarter than I think.”
He finishes his ice cream sandwich, and I throw our wrappers away.
“What’s it mean?” I resettle next to him and lick my fingers clean of the sticky chocolate. “You led me on this wild goose chase only to end up somewhere you looked and I can’t search.”
“Not there,” he finally says, taking a few labored breaths.
“Not anywhere.” As soon as I say it, I know it’s true. The gold isn’t anywhere. And even if it is, it’s nowhere I can touch. Part of me wonders if he knew all along.
We sit in the quiet for a few long moments, and the only sounds in the room are the whir of the air conditioner and the narrowness of his breaths. They’re getting worse—each one fighting a greater battle in his chest to escape his lips. We need more time.
“I was thinking about your DNR,” I say, picking at my cuticles. “If you reconsidered, we’d be able?—”
“I never wanted kids,” he interrupts, voice taxed.
I look at him then, hurt and sadness gnawing at me with that truth.
“But these last two weeks of being your dad were the best of my life, kiddo.”
There’s no time for me to bask in the sweetness of that confession, because it comes with an immediate shift. An emptying. I grab his hand to keep him with me. Like he’s a balloon flying toward the sky and all I have to do is hold the string a little tighter.
“Me too, Dad.”
He grunts then coughs. “We didn’t have to do it, but I’m happy we did. You got what you came here for. Everything’ll be okay.”
He’s slipping.
“No.” My heart races. “Dad. No.”
“You let Nash take care of you. And Bennie.” He’s so at ease despite the effort it’s taking him to talk. “And you take care of your mom.”
“Dad.” Every space from my chest to my throat feels like it’s been shoved full of razor blades. “Dad, no.”
“I want you to have the boat. Told the nurse. It’s all in that envelope. You have power of attorney—you take care of it all.”
My gaze shoots to the envelope on the table; I don’t want it.
“Dad.” I keep saying it because he’s not listening. “Dad, no.No!” He’s telling me goodbye, and I refuse to say it back. I will not. I will not lose this man before I really know him. “You will come back to Fontain with me, and we will fix this.”
His face is the most peaceful it’s been since I stepped foot on his boat two weeks ago.
“Goodbyes are always sad, kiddo.” He winces a little. “Go get the gold.”
“I don’t want the gold.” He’s not listening to me, and my voice won’t stop dividing into pieces. “I want you to stay.” As soon as his eyes close, I feel the life leave his body. The single monitor in the room blares a beep in confirmation that I shout over. “Help!” The room spins and time no longer makes sense. “You do not do this, Rueben!”
Nash comes in at the same time as the nurses who move with a somber purpose, unplugging the monitor to silence the room.
“He’s going,” one says.
“He’s notgoing!” There should be paddles and shocks. There should be aggressive attempts at CPR. “He can’t breathe.”
“He has a DNR,” the nurse says like there isn’t an actual human being dying right in front of her. “We can’t do anything.”
“Fuck the DNR!” I refuse to let a piece of paper be why this ends. “Save him.”
I keep saying it—save him, save him—only I’m not just saying it, I’m yelling it because nobody will listen. “Why aren’t you doing anything?”
Nash hooks an arm around my waist, hushing me with soft words in my ear and tears in his own eyes.
